
• • s 









4 o 
















<, 





-^^ r^ oV""^^^!^"- '^•^ V-^" ^' ii^l//^^^-' ^^. <i 



'^0' 







4 o 













<^ " c „ - <J,' 

^> v" . ' • 




.* ^0 









°o 



.'* '^i'X <^4^'''^ ./,•"'" 











.^' 



,0 



^^-^^^ 



^^'■ 



'S* AA fc=riffljriufc<v ^<r» C^ * fTxX S3 //U *<*. <.^ 











.^ 



L' 






"oV' 



.•l°-«. 



^°-^*. 




^*l°.o 






Texas History Stories, 



HOUSTON. 
AUSTIN, 

CROCKETT, 
LA SALLE. 



{^For Sicpplementary Reading in Primary Grades.^ 



E. G. LITTLEJOHN, 

GAL.VESTON, TEXAS. 




4329 



CROWN AND BRIDGE WORK 
A SPECIALTr. 



a: 



Br. lb. M. Xubben, 



DENTIST , 



^ 



2U7 /lftar?ict Street, ©alvestoiu 



a; 



MK ASSISTANTS ARE ENTIRELY 
COMPETENT. 





Filsi 



L7(^ 



SAM HOUSTOiN. 



Sam Houston was born in Vir-gin-ia. 

His parents were poor people. 

He had five brothers and three sisters. 

When Sam was eight years old he started 
to school. 

There were few good schools in Vir-gin-ia in 
those days. 

There were no free schools, such as we have 
to-day. 

Sam could go to school only late in the winter. 

The rest of the year he was kept at hard 
work. 

Sometimes, if he worked well, he was allowed 



4 SAM HOUSTON. 

to run home from the fields, to be in time to take 
his place in spelling. 

He learned to read and write and cipher. 

When he was thirteen years old, he had gone 
to school but six months in all. 

It was then that his father died. After the 
death of his father, his mother sold the old 
home in Vir-gin-ia and took her family across 
the mountains into Ten-nes-see. 

At that time Ten-nes-see was only a great wil- 
derness. Indians were everywhere. There were 
dense forests full of wolves, bears and other 
wild animals. 

The little party halted eight miles from the 
Ten-nes-see River, which was the bound-a-ry be- 
tween the white men and the Cher-o-kee Indians. 
Here a new log cabin was built and a farm 
cleared. 

Sam was set to work on the farm with his 
brothers. Bu the liked hunting and fishing better 



SAM HOUSTON. 5 

than work. He soon became ac-quaint-ed with 
the Indians living near his home and spent much 
of his time with them in the woods. 

His famil}^ did not like this, so he was put to 
work in a country store. Sam had no greater 
liking for this kind of life than for farming, so 
one day he sud-den-ly dis-ap-pear-ed. A great 
search was made for him, but he could not be 
found for several weeks. 

At last it was learned that he had gone back 
to his friends, the Indians. 

When asked why he had acted in this way, he 
said because he liked to measure deer tracks 
better than tape. 

When his clothes were worn out, he returned 
home for more. 

He was kindly received by his mother, who 
gave him all the clothes he needed. 

But he could not forget his free life in the 
woods. 



6 SAM HOUSTON. 

He longed to sport with the happy Indian 
boys. 

He longed to chase the deer. 

He longed for the fresh air of the forests. 

And he was soon back among the Indians 
again. He staid with them most of the time, 
till he was eighteen years of age. 

Sam did not like hard study, but he was very 
fond of reading. 

His favorite book was Homer's Iliad, which 
he carried with him to the woods. 

This he read by the light of the Indians' 
campiire at night, and in the daytime, when the 
chase was ended, he would lay himself down 
under the shade of a great tree and read for 
hours at a time. 

When he was eighteen years old, he left the 
Indians and began to teach school for the pale- 
faces, as the whites were called. 

He wanted money to pay some debts. He had 



SAM HOUSTON. 7 

few pupils at first, but he was not one of the 
kind that gives up easily. He kept right on 
and soon had more pupils than he could teach. 
For pay he received corn, cotton cloth, and a lit- 
tle monev. 
•J 

When he had made enough money to pay his 
debts, he shut up his school. 

He soon after became a soldier in the Un-i-ted 
States army. 

When he marched away, his mother, stand- 
ing in the door of her cottage, handed him his 
musket, saying : " Here, my son, take this mus- 
ket and never disgrace it ; for re-mem-ber, I had 
rather all my sons should fill one hon-or-a-ble 
grave than that one of them should turn his 
back to save his life. The door of ni}^ cottage 
is ever open to brave men, but always shut 
against cowards. " 

He never forgot his mother's words. Where 



8 SAM HOUSTON. 

the battle was thickest, there he was alwa3^s to 
be found. 

In a battle with the Indians he was shot by 
an arrow that struck deep into his thigh. 

He tried to pull it out, but failed. A com- 
rade was then called upon to pull it out, but 
failed also. "Try again, " said Houston, rais- 
ing his sword, "and pull it out or I strike you 
down." This time it came, tearing away the 
flesh and leaving an ugly w^ound, which never 
got entirely well. 

When the war was over he was sent to New 
Or-le-ans. 

This was a lonof wav from his home. There 
were no railroads in those days, so he, with two 
other young men, floated down the Mis-sis-sip-pi 
River in a canoe. 

One day, as their skifl was turning a bend in 
the river, they saw a strange sight. It was a 



SAM HOUSTON. 9 

vessel coming up stream without any sails and 
sending up a heavy column of smoke. 

They thought it must be on fire. 

On coming closer, they saw it was a steam- 
boat, the first that ever went up the Mis-sis- 
sip-pi River. 

He soon returned to Ten-nes-see and made his 
home in the city of Nash-ville. 

He studied law and became a great lawyer. 
Before long people began to hear about him all 
over the State. The people wanted a wise man 
to go to Con-gress to help make laws for the 
whole land. When e-lec-tion day came they 
chose Sam Houston to go. 

When his time was out, they chose him to go 
back again. 

He did his work so well in Con-gress that peo- 
ple began to sa}- that he would make a good 
Gov-ern-or of the State. 

Sam Houston never neg-lect-ed his work. 



10 SAM HOUSTON. 

Whatever he had to do, he did well. And so 
he wavS chosen Gov-ern-or. 

For some cause he soon gave up the gov-ern-or- 
ship and went to live again with his friends, the 
Cher-o-kee Indians. 

The Indians were de-light-ed to have him 
with them once more. 

Years before he had been a-clopt-ed as a son 
by the Cher-o-kee chief. 

He was given the name Col-o-neh, which means 
"the Rover." K^^^-^ 

When the old chief heard that his son was 
coming to see him once more, he went down to 
the river to meet him, taking his whole family 
with him. 

When he landed, the old chief threw his arms 
around him and embraced him with great af-fec- 
tion. 

The chief said to him : "My son, eleven win- 
ters have passed since we met. 



SAM HOUSTON. 11 

"My heart havS wan-dered often where you 
were. 

' ' I heard you were a great chief among your 
people. 

"We are in trouble, and the Great Spirit has 
sent you to tell us what to do and take the trou- 
ble away from us. 

' ' I know you will be our friend, for our 
hearts are near to you. 

"My wigwam is yours, my home is yours, my 
people are yours — rest with us. ' ' 

Houston was glad to be back again with his 
old friend. 

He said that when he laid himself down to 
sleep that night he felt like a lost child returned 
at last to his father's house. 

Houston was always the friend of the red man. 

He said that in all the years he had known 
them he was never deceived by one of them. 

Houston said the Indians were treated badly 



12 SAM HOUSTON. 

by the white man. He had taken their lands 
away from them. 

He had robbed them of their forests and game. 

He had given them "fire-wa-ter" to drink. 

Houston loved them and felt sorry for them. 
He said he would do all he could to help them. 
He and they were children of the same Great 
Father. 

He got them money for their lands. He would 
not let anyone sell them " fire-wa-ter. " He had 
the bad men, who ill-treated them, punished. 

After three years of forest life among the In- 
dians, Houston de-ter-mined to become a herds- 
man. 

A herdsman is one who raises cattle. 

The broad prairies of Texas are covered with 
grass which cattle like to eat. 

Houston thought Texas would be a good 
place to start his ranch. 

So, in 1832, with a few friends, he came to 



SAM HOUSTON. 13 

Texas. He stopped for a while at Nac-og-do- 
ches, and then went on to San An-ton-io. 

At this time Texas belonged to Mex-i-co. 

The people of Texas were badly treated by 
the Mex-i-cans. 

Many of them were thrown into prison with- 
out cause. 

They were not allowed to worship God in the 
way they w^anted to. 

They were not allowed to keep guns to pro- 
tect themselves from the Indians. 

They w^ere given no public schools. 

They were not allowed to make their own 
laws. 

They were in great trouble and knew not 
what to do. 

They thought Houston might be able to help 
them. 

He was in-vit-ed to become their leader. 

Houston was always careful about what he 



14 SAM HOUSTON. 

said and did, and the people felt safe while he 
was their leader. 

War soon broke out between Texas and Mex- 
i-co, and Houston was made gen-er-al of the 
Texan army. 

He was a wise com-mand-er. 

He watched the enemy care-ful-ly. 

When Gen-er-al San-ta An-na, the Mex-i-can 
com-mand-er, marched his army into Texas, 
Houston was on the lookout for him. 

The two armies met on the banks of the San 
Ja-cin-to River, not far from the present city of 
Houston. 

San-ta An-na 's army was nearly three times 
as large as Houston's. 

^Before going into battle, Houston made a 
speech to his men. 

He told them that when they went into the 
fight to re-mem-ber the Al-a-mo. 

The Al-a-mo is an old church in San An-ton-io. 



SAM HOUSTON. 15 

In this old church there had been a battle, in 
which one hundred and fifty brave TexaUvS had 
been killed by the Mex-i-cans. 

Houston wanted his men to re-mem-ber this, 
so they w^ould pay the Mex-i-cans back. 

The battle w-as fought April 21, 1836. It is 
called the Battle of San Ja-cin-to. 

The Texans rushed into the battle shoutingf 
"Re-mem-ber the Al-a-mo ! Re-mem-ber the 
Al-a-mo ! " 

The Mex-i-cans were very much fright-ened 
and soon began to run. 

The Texans followed them, killing many of 
them. Gen-er-al San-ta An-na was taken pris- 
on-er. He was found the day after the battle 
crawling on all-fours through the tall grass of 
the prairie. He had found some old clothes, 
which he put on so that no one would know him. 
He was placed on a horse behind a soldier, who 
carried him to Gen-er-al Houston. 



16 SAM HOUSTON. 

Houston's horse had been shot under him and 
he himself was badly wounded in the ankle. The 
wound was very painful and kept him awake all 
night. When San-ta An-na was brought to him 
he was lying on a pallet under an old oak tree 
and had fallen into a doze. 

San-ta An-na told him who he was and begged 
that his life might be spared. 

Houston was a brave man and he felt sorry 
for the pris-on-er. He asked San-ta An-na not to 
fight against the Texans any more, and then 
sent him back to his home in Mex-i-co. 

Texas was now free from Mex-i-co. They 
could go back to their homes and live in peace. 
They could make their own laws. 

The people now wanted someone for Pres-i- 
dent, and ey-er-y-bod-y thought Houston just the 
man for the place. He was e-lec-ted and served 
for two years. 

Some years af-ter-wards he was made Pres-i- 



SAM HOUSTON. 17 

dent again, and then Gov-ern-or of the State of 
Texas. 

When his time as Gov-ern-or was out, he went 
back to his home in Hunts-ville, Texas. 

Here he lived a quiet and happy life with his 
wife and children. 

He died July 26, 1863, aged seventy years. 

The whole people of Texas mourned for him 
as if he had been their father. 

He is buried at Hunts-ville, Texas. 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 



Stephen F. Austin, like Houston, was a na-tive 
of Vir-gin-ia. 

He was born No-vem-ber 3, 1793. 

His father was. Moses Austin. 

He had one brother and one sister. 

When Stephen was six years old his father 
moved with his family to Mis-sou-ri to mine for 
lead. 

There were few white people in Mis-sou-ri at 
that time. Wild Indians roamed over the plains 
and hunted the buf-f a-lo. Sometimes they would 
sud-den-ly appear before the white man's cabin, 
when the father was away, and carry off the 
mother and children. You may read in your 
his-to-ry how Daniel Boone's daughter, and Mrs. 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 19 

AuvStin and her f am-i-ly were thus carried away. 

Little Stephen had often seen the Indians gal- 
lop-ing over the prai-ries, and more than once he 
had heard their ter-ri-ble war-whoop. 

There were no good schools in Mis-sou-ri at 
that time, so at the age of eleven Stephen was 
sent to school to Con-nec-ti-cut, his father's old 
home. He made good use of his time, and after 
four years he was able to enter a col-lege in Ken- 
tuck-y. He grad-u-a-ted from here in a short 
time with much honor. 

When his school days were over he went back 
to Mis-sou-ri. He was kind and gentle in dis- 
po-si-tion. He was polite and re-spect-ful in 
his manners. He was a hard worker. 

He soon won the good will of his neighbors 

and they sent him to the leg-is-lat-ure to help 

make the laws. They were so well pleased with 

him that they sent him back again and again 
for six years. 



20 STKPHKN F. AUSTIN- 

Austin now moved from Mis-sou-ri to Ark-an- 
sas and opened up a farm. His good name fol- 
lowed him, and the people here soon learned to 
love and trust him as those at his old home had 
done. In less than a year he was e-lect-ed judge. 

About this time his father, Moses Austin, 
went to San An-to-ni-o, Texas, to get per-mis- 
sion to make a set-tle-ment in that country and 
to raise cotton and sugar. On his way he stop- 
ped at Stephen F. Austin 's farm and asked him 
to help in making the set-tle-ment. 

Stephen gave up his farm and went to New 
Or-le-ans to get col-o-nists for the new set-tle- 
ment. 

When Moses Austin reached San An-to-ni-o he 
was coldly received by the gov-ern-or and ordered 
to quit the country. He was about to do this when 
a friend of his, Bar-on de Bas-trop, begged him 
not to go, and promised to see the gov-ern-or 
for him. This he did, and in a few days Aus- 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 21 

tin was on his way back to Mis-sou-ri feeling 
that his request would be granted. 

Mis-sou-ri was a long way from Texas in those 
days. One may take the cars now and in a few 
hours go from one place to the other. Austin 
traveled on horseback. On the journey he was 
beset by many dangers. The wild Co-man-che 
Indians roamed over the plains and killed ev^ery 
white man they met. The weather was very 
cold. The creeks and rivers, swollen by heavy 
rams, had to be crossed by swimming or on 
rafts. 

When he got home to Mis-sou-ri, his health 
was ruined, and in a little while he died. Just 
before he died he sent word to his son Stephen 
to carry out his plans. 

True to his promise to his father, Stephen F. 
Austin set out for San An-to-ni-o to see the Mex-i- 
can gov-ern-or. His friend, Don E-ras-mo Se- 
guin, went with him. He was welcomed by the 



22 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 

gov-ern-or, to whom he showed his plans. The 
gov-ern-or liked the plans, and Austin was given 
land on which to settle his col-o-nists. 

After picking out the land he wanted, he 
went back to New Or-le-ans for his settlers. But 
first he sent over a boatload of food for the 
people, as there was nothing in the country for 
them to eat when they should get there. The 
boat landed the supplies at the mouth of the 
Bra-zos River and hid them in the bushes along 
the bank. It then returned to New Or-le-ans for 
another load. 

Austin, with his settlers, reached the Bra-zos 
on New Year's day, 1822. They found their 
pro-vis-ions had been stolen by the Indians. 
They thouofht the boat would return with more 
supplies, but she did not come. She never came. 
Nothing was ever heard of her again. It is 
thought that she w^as lost at sea with all on 
board. But the people did not give up at this 



STKPHE:n F. AUSTIN. 23 

bad news. They set to work felling the trees, 
building themselves log cabins, and laying off 
fields. When they were hungry the hunters 
were sent to the woods to kill game. Often the 
hunters never came back, but were found dead — 
scalped by the Indians. 

Austin having made the set-tle-ment, he 
thought it right that he should tell the Mex-i- 
can gov-ern-or about it. So he set out for San 
An-to-ni-o, leaving a man named Josiah Bell as 
leader of the col-o-nists. When he got to San 
An to-ni-o, he was told that he must go on to 
the City of Mex-i-co, more than a thousand miles 
away. There was a new pres-i-dent of Mex-i-co, 
who, he was told, would take his land away 
from him if he did not go. 

With only one com-pan-ion he set out on the 
long and dan-ger-ous journey. Most of the way 
they traveled on foot. The countrv through 
"'"hich they passed was full of Indians and rob- 



24 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 

bervS. When two days out from San An-ton-io 
they were attacked and robbed by a band of 
Co-man-che Indians. Austin and his friend now 
dressed as beggars to escape the notice of the 
robbers. At night they slept on the ground in 
the open air and their food was of the coarsest 
kind. 

After thirty-six days they reached the City 
of Mex-i-co. Here ev-er-y-thing was in dis-or-der. 
Austin tried to see the pres-i-dent, but could not. 
He waited awhile and tried again, but with no 
better luck. But he did not give up. He waited 
on for a year, and at last got the pres-i-dent to 
agree not to take the lands away from his col-o- 
nists but to give them more. 

With this good news for his people he went 
back home. Every one was glad to see him. 
He was welcomed as a father. 

While Austin was gone to Mex-i-co, many other 
people had come into the col-o-ny and had begun 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 25 

to build towns. One of them they named San 
Fe-li-pe de Aus-tin, in honor of Austin. For 
ten years Austin watched over and care-f ul-ly 
tended the little col-o-ny. 

He punished the Indians and drove them from 
the country. 

He made wise laws. 

The people were happy in their new homes. 

But now trouble came upon them. They were 
ill treated by the Mex-i-cans. 

They were made to pay very high taxes. 

Their friends in the Un-i-ted States were no 
longer allowed to settle in the col-o-ny. 

Their guns were taken away from them so 
they could not protect themselves from the In- 
dians. Mex-i-can soldiers were sent into the coun- 
try, who behaved in a very in-sult-ing manner 
to the people. 

Some of the Texans were ar-rest-ed and 
thrown into prison. 



26 STKPH:e;N F. AUSTIN. 

The people sent a letter to the pres-i-dent of 
Mex-i-co, asking for their rights. 

The bearer of this letter was Stephen F. Aus- 
tin. 

Austin had not f or-got-ten his other journey to 
Mex-i-co and its trials. His feelings told him not 
to go again, but to stay at home and be happy 
on his farm. But duty called him to go and he 
obeyed. 

General San-ta An-na was then pres-i-dent of 
Mexico. He pre-tend-ed to be the friend of 
Texas. But when Austin s^ot to the City of 
Mex-i-co he would not see him. He had no time 
to listen to such a little matter as a letter from 
the Texans. Austin tried to see him again and 
again, but failed. 

Sick at heart over his failure, Austin started 
home. He had not gone far when he was ar- 
rest-ed by some Mex-i-can soldiers, taken back to 
the city and thrown into prison. Here he was 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 27 

kept for more than two years. Part of the 
time he was denied light, books, ink, pen and 
paper. His health was almost ruined. 

In the darkness of his prison he thought of 
his beloved Texas and how he might do some- 
thing for her should he ever be set free. 

But perhaps he should die in prison. Who 
then would help her ? These thoughts, he said, 
almost crazed him. 

But at last he was allowed to return to his 
home. Great was the joy of his people when 
they saw him again. 

Austin had been at home hardly a month when 
war broke out between Mex-i-co and Texas. Mex- 
i-can soldiers were sent to take away the arms 
of the Texans. The Texans would not give 
them up. They needed them to protect their 
homes from the Indians. They said they would 
die. before they would give them up. 

The first fight took place at Gon-za-les, Oc-to- 



28 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 

ber 2, 1835. The TexanvS had a small cannon 
here which the Mex-i-cans were told to take. 
"Take it if you can," vsaid the Texans, and 
fired it into the enemy's ranks. They used the 
little gun so well that the Mex-i-cans were soon 
whipped. Four of them were killed and many 
wounded. The Texans lost not a man. 

And now some one was wanted to command 
the Texas army. All eyes turned toward Aus- 
tin, and he was chosen. It was now Gen-er-al 
Austin. He marched against the enemy and 
whipped them in several fights. 

The people of Texas were poor. They had 
no money, and the soldiers needed food and 
clothes. They must get help somewhere. It 
was de-cid-ed to send some one to the U-nit-ed 
States to ask for help. Austin was chosen to go. 
When he was told that he had been chosen, he 
said, "I go on this mission from a sense of duty. 
It is a bad ex-am-ple for anyone to refuse the call 



STE;PHEN p. AUSTIN 29 

of the people when the country is in dif -fi-cult-y. 
I have been called to go, and 1 obey the call." 
He left the army in charge of Gen-er-al Edward 
Bur-le-son. 

When he got to the U-nit-ed States he made 
speeches everywhere. He told of the wrongs of 
the Texans. He told of their cruel treatment 
by the Mex-i-cans. He told how bravely they 
were fighting for lib-er-ty. He asked for money 
and men to help them. 

The people of the U-nit-ed States heard him 
gladly. All over the country men shouldered 
their rifles and set out for Texas. Money was 
sent, too. 

After much fighting, the Mex-i-cans were whip- 
ped, and Texas became free. Peace once more 
settled down on the country. The soldiers laid 
down their arms and went back to their homes. 
Gardens were planted and fields plowed, and 
the whole country soon blossomed like a rose. 



30 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 

Austin was happy. His people were free. 
The}^ had their own pres-i-dent and made their 
own laws. 

Gen-er-al Sam Houston was the pres-i-dent. 

The pres-i-dent needed some helpers, and he 
asked Austin to be one of them. There was 

much work to be done, but work for Texas was 
ever a pleas-ure to Austin. His health was weak 
and he worked too hard. He was seized with 
a sudden illness of which he died in a few days, 
De-cem-ber 27, 1836. 

He was only 43 years old when he died. 

The news of his death brought sorrow to 
every house-hold. 

"He was known and beloved by all. Every 
child of every col-o-nist was known to him, was 
'=^ger to welcome him, and to be per-mit-ted to 
play upon his knee. " 

He was buried at Peach Point, on the Bra-zos 
River, near Co-lum-bi-a. 

He is ealled The Father of Texas. 

The city of Austin is named for him. 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



In the ' ' Life of Sam Houston ' ' you were told 
of the brave men who died in the Al-a-mo, fight- 
ing for the free-dom of Texas. 

One of these men was David Crockett. 

David Crockett was born in Ten-nes-see. He 
was born on the 17th of August, in the year 
1786. He had fLve brothers and three sisters. 
His father was very poor and the fam-i-l}^ lived 
far back in the backwoods. 

The house in which they lived w^as made of 
logs. The chinks between the logs were filled 
with clay. There wxre no windows in the house, 
and light and fresh air came in through the door 
or through the chinks in the wall. Small holes 



32 DAVID CROCKETT. 

were made in the walls through which guns 
might be put to shoot at the Indians. 

The country was full of Indians at that time. 
They were very trou-ble-some. They would hide 
themselves near the settler's cabin and shoot 
down anyone who came out of the door. Often 
they would attack the house, break down the 
door, and kill the entire fam-i-ly. Crockett's 
grand-fa-ther and grand-moth-er were both 
killed by them. 

When David was seven or eight years old, his 
father gave up the farm and opened a mill. It 
was a mill for grinding corn into meal. The 
mill house was built on the banks of a small 
stream. One night there came a great rain 
storm. The water in the stream rose verv high 
and washed away the mill house. It came up 
into the house in which Mr. Crockett lived and 
he had to move his fam-i-ly out to keep them 
from being drowned. 



DAVID CROCKETT. 33 

Mr. Crockett now moved to an-oth-er part of 
the country and opened a tavern. 

David, being next to the oldest son, was a 
great help to his father and mother. 

When trav-el-ers would stop at the tavern 
for the night, David would help them to un- 
hitch and feed their teams. 

One night an old Dutch-man by the name of 
Jacob Siler stopped at the tavern. He was go- 
ing to Vir-gin-ia and had a large stock of cattle 
that he was taking with him. He wanted some 
one to help him with his cattle. He liked Dav- 
id's bright face and bus-i-ness manner, and asked 
Mr. Crockett to hire him. David was now about 
twelve vears old. He loved his father and 
mother dearly and hated very much to leave 
home. But the fam-i-ly was very poor and he 
must help make the living. With a heavy heart 
he set out on the journey. It was four hundred 
miles to the place he was going and he had to 



34 DAVID CROCKETT. 

travel on foot. He got very tired and often 
wished to be back at home with his dear father 
and mother. But he felt it his duty to go on. 

His Dutch master was pleased with him and 
at the end of the journey gave him five or six 
dollars as his wages. It was a small sum, but 
David was very proud of it. It was the first 
money he had ever earned. 

He wanted to go home and take the money to 
his father. But his master did not want him to 
go and kept a strict watch over him. One day 
he and two other boys were playing by the road- 
side, some distance from the house. There came 
along three wagons. They belonged to an old 
man who was going to Ten-nes-see and who 
knew David's father. David begged the old 
man to take him home. The old man said he 
would stay that night at a tavern seven miles 
away, and if David could get there before day 
the next morning he would take him home. This 



DAVID CROCKliTT. 35 

was Sunday evening. David went back to his 
master's house and found the fam-i-ly were out 
on a visit. He gathered his clothes and his 
money and put them all to-geth-er under the 
head of his bed. He went to bed early that 
night, but he could not sleep. He kept think- 
ing and thinking about his father and mother. 
And then, too, what if his master should find 
out that he was going home ? 

About three hours before day he got up to 
make his start. The night was dark and cold. 
It was snowing fast, and the snow was then on 
the ground about eight inches deep. Before he 
got to the wagons it was up to his knees. 

He got to the wagons about an hour before 
day. The men were al-read-y up and getting 
ready to start. The old man treated him with 
great kindness. David warmed himself by the 
fire and ate a hearty break-fast, after which the 
party set out on their journey. 



36 DAVID CROCKETT. 

How slowly the wheels turned round ! To 
David they seemed almost to stop. It seemed to 
him that he would never get home. He thought 
he could go faster by walking, so he told his old 
friend good-bye and set out on foot. He walked 
on until he was ov-er-tak-en by a man leading a 
horse, who offered to let him ride. He was 
very glad of this chance, as he was very tired. 
This kind man took him within fifteen miles of 
his father's house, when they parted and David 
walked home. 

Up to this time David had never been to 
school a dav. He could neither read nor write. 
Near his father's house was a little country 
school, kept by a man named Kitchen. To this 
school his father now sent him. 

He had gone but four days and had just be- 
gun to learn his letters, when a falling out with 
a boy much larger and older than himself caused 
him to quit school. 



DAVID CROCKETT. 37 

He did not go to vSchool again until he was fif- 
teen years old. Then he began to think that all 
his troubles were caused by his want of learn- 
ing, and that he had better go to school some 
more. By working two days a week he got one 
of his neighbors to board him, and went to 
school the other four days of the week. He 
kept this up for six months. In this time he had 
learned to read a little, to write his own name, 
and to cipher some. And this was all the 
schooling he ever had. David was very fond of 
shooting, and as soon as he could get money 
enough bought him a good rifle. He carried it 
with him wherever he went. He often went to 
shooting matches, where they shot for beef. He 
was such a good shot that he often won the 
whole beef. 

When he grew to be a man he became a great 
hunter. The country where he lived was full of 
deer, bears and other wild an-i-mals. When his 



38 DAVID CROCKETT. 

fam-i-ly wanted meat, he would go out into the 
woods and shoot a deer or a bear. 

Here is a story he tells of one of his bear 
hunts: "In the morning I left my son at the 
camp, and we started towards the cane-brake. 
When we had gone about a mile, we started a 
very large bear, but we had to go very slowly, 
as the earth was full of cracks, caused by earth- 
quakes, and there was much danger of falling 
into them. We kept in hearing of the dogs, 
though, for about three miles, when we came to 
the cane-brake. 

"By this time sev-er-al of the dogs had got 
tired and come back. We went ahead for some 
little time into the cane-brake, when we met the 
bear coming straight to us, and not more than 
twenty yards off. I started my dogs after him, 
and I followed on to about the middle of the 
cane-brake. Here I found the bear in an old 
stump of a tree about twenty feet high, with 



DAVID CROCKETT. 39 

the dogs barking all around him. When I got 
close enough to shoot, I fired, and the bear fell. 
I ran up to him, but he was not dead. I loaded 
my gun as quickly as I could, shot him again 
and killed him. When we had skinned the bear, 
we cut off the fat, packed it on our horses, and 
started back to camp. We had gone but a lit- 
tle way when I heard my dogs barking again. 
I jumped down from my horse and gave him to 
my friend. He went on to camp, and I fol- 
lowed the dogs with all my might. 

"Soon night came on. The woods were rough 
and hilly and all covered over with cane. I 
had to move very slowly. Sev-er-al times I fell 
over logs and into cracks made by the earth- 
quakes. I was very much afraid I would break 
m}^ gun. I went on about three miles till I 
came to a big creek which I waded. The water 
was about knee-deep and very cold. It was now 
so very dark that I could hardly see my way. 



40 DAVID CROCKETT. 

When I got to the dogs, I found they had treed 
a bear in a large forked tree. 

"I could vsee the dark hump in the tree, but 
not well enough to vshoot. I hunted for some 
dry brush to make a light, but could find none. 
At last I thought I could shoot by guess and 
kill him. I pointed as near the hump as I could 
and fired. The bear did not fall, but climbed 
higher and got out on a limb, where I could see 
him better. I loaded again and fired, but he 
didn't move at all. I was loading for a third 
fire, when, the first thing I knew, the bear was 
down among the dogs, and they wxre fighting 
all around me. At last the bear got into one 
of the cracks made by the earth-quakes. I could 
not see a wink. I pushed my gun against him 
and fired. With that he jumped out of the 
crack, and he and the dogs had another hard 
fight around me. At last the dogs forced him 
back into the crack again. 



DAVID CROCKETT. 41 

" I had laid down my gun in the dark, and I 
now began to hunt for it. I got hold of a pole, 
and I thought I would punch the bear awhile 
with that. When I punched him, the dogs 
would jump in on him, when he would bite them 
and make them jump out again. 

"While the dogs kept his head toward them, 
I got down into the crack and killed him with a 
long knife I carried in my belt. 

" I suffered very much with cold that night. 
My clothes were wet and frozen. My fire was 
very bad and I could not find anything that 
would burn well to make it any better. I 
thought I should freeze if I didn't warm 'my- 
self in some way by ex-er-cise. I got up and 
shouted awhile with all my might. Then I 
would jump up and down and throw myself into 
all sorts of motions. But this would not do. 
My blood was getting cold and the chills were 
coming all over me. I was so tired, too, that I 



42 DAVID CROCKETT. 

could hardly walk. But I thought I would do 
the best I could to save my life. I went to a 
tree about two feet through and not a limb on 
it for thirty feet, and I would climb up to the 
limbs, then lock my arms around it and slide 
don two the bottom again. I kept on doing this 
till daylight. In the morning I hung my bear 
up, so as to be safe, and set out to hunt for my 
camp. I found it in a short while. My son and 
my friend were rejoiced to see me, as they had 
given me up for lost. " 

Crockett was a great Indian fighter, as well 
as bear hunter. He was in many battles with 
the Indians and was a brave soldier. When he 
went to war he was called Col-o-nel Crockett. 

Col-o-nel Crockett was much liked by his 
neigh-bors wher-ev-er he lived. He was kind- 
hearted. He was full of fun. He was pleasant 
to everyone he met. He was honest. In all 
things he tried to do what was right. His 



DAVID CROCKETT. 43 

motto was, "Be sure you are right, then go 
ahead. " 

The people wanted a man of this kind to help 
make the laws, and they chose Col-o-nel Crock- 
ett. They sent him first to the Leg-is-lat-ure 
of the State, and then to Con-gress. 

He stayed in Con-gress sev-er-al years. When 
his time was out, he de-ter-mined to go to Texas 
and help her against the Mex-i-cans. 

It made him very sad to leave his home. He 
loved his wife, his children and his friends. He 
loved his home and country. He loved freedom. 
Texas was fighting for freedom and needed sol- 
diers verv much. So biddino^ farewell to home 
and friends, he set out for that strange land. 
On the way he was joined l)y two com-pan-ions. 
One day they were riding through the prai-ries 
when they heard a low rumbling noise like 
thunder. They stopped and listened. Nearer 
and louder grew the noise. They looked in the 



44 DAVID CROCKETT. 

dir-ec-tion from which the sound came and saw 
a great cloud of dust rising over the prai-rie. 
They thought it must be a storm coming. The 
noise grew louder and louder. The cloud of 
dust became thicker and thicker. Their horses 
became very much fright-ened, so they ran and 
caught them and rode into a grove of trees near 
by. They had just got tmder the trees when a 
great herd of buf-fa-lo came dashing by as swift 
as the wind. If the Col-o-nel and his friends 
had not ridden under the trees they would have 
been trampled to death. 

Col-o-nel Crockett had long wanted a chance 
to hunt buf-fa-lo, and now here it was. He 
watched the herd for a few moments, then put 
ispurs to his horse and followed them, leaving 
his friends behind him. He rode on as fast as 
his horse could carry him. But he could not 
keep up with the buf-fa-loes, which were soon 
lost to sight in the distance. 



DAVID CROCKETT 45 

He now stopped to let hivS horse breathe and 
to think how he should get back to his friends 
and the road he had left. He looked around 
him on every side, but nothing was to be seen 
but the broad prai-rie. Not even an an-i-mal was 
in sight. Not a sound was to be heard. He 
was lost on the prai-rie. 

Niofht came on and he besfan to look for a 
place of shelter. He found a large tree that had 
blown down and he thought he would sleep in 
its top. He climbed up among the branches, 
when he heard a low growl. He looked up to 
see what sort of a bed-fel-low he was to have, 
when he saw, not more than five or six steps a 
away, a great Mex-i-can lion. With flashing 
eyes and grinning teeth he was just ready to 
spring upon the Col-o-nel. As quickly as he 
could Crockett raised his rifie to his shoulder 
and fired. The ball struck the lion on the fore- 
bead, but did not hurt him much. The next 



46 DAVID CR0CKI:TT. 

moment he sprang. He lighted on the ground 
close by Crockett, who struck him over the head 
with the barrel of his rifle. But he didn't mind 
that at all. Crockett now threw down his gun 
and drew his large hunting knife. The lion 
came at him again and seized him by the 
■ shoulder. Crockett's foot tripped in a vine and 
he fell to the ground with the lion on top of him. 
Crockett thought his last hour had come. His 
arm and leg were badly torn. He felt himself 
getting very weak. Gath-er-ing all his strength 
for a last blow he struck the lion with all his 
might in the neck. The lion let go his hold and 
in another moment rolled over on his side dead. 
Crockett now went back to the tree to make 
his bed. He threw some moss on the ground, 
and over it spread his horse blanket. On this 
bed he lay down and, being very tired, soon fell 
fast asleep. He awoke at daybreak next morn- 
ing. He was sore and stiff from his fight with 



DAVID CROCKETT. 47 

the lion. He went for liivS horvse, but it had run 
away during- the night. What should he do, 
away off in this wild country, afoot and alone ? 

While he was thinking, a band of In-di-ans 
rode up and sur-round-ed him. They were 
friendly to the white men. The chief g-ave 
Crockett another horse and promised to take 
him back to his friends. The camp w^as reached 
that evening, when Crockett bade farewell to 
his kind friends, the In-di-ans, and they rode 
away. 

Crockett's com-pan-ions were de-light-ed to 
see him. The next day they reached the Al-a-mo. 

The Al-a-mo was an old church in the city of 
San An-to-ni-o. The Texans had taken the 
town from the Mex-i-cans some time before and 
turned the old church into a fort. Col-o-nel 
William B. Travis, with one hundred and eighty 
soldiers, held the fort for the Texans. Col-o-nel 
Travis and his men were glad to see Crockett 



48 DAVID CROCKKTT. 

and his com-pan-ions and welcomed them to the 

fort. 

Not many days after Crockett's ar-riv-al news 
came that the Mex-i-can gen-er-al, San-ta An-na, 
with a large army was coming to take the fort. 

The Texans made ready to receive them. 
They stored their arms and pro-vis-ions in the 
fort and raised the Texas flag. 

The Mex-i-cans marched into the city with a 
blood-red flag flying. This red flag meant that 
all who were taken pris-on-ers would be put to 
death. 

They sent a mes-sen-ger to Col-o-nel Travis, 
asking him to sur-ren-der. They told him that 
if he did not sur-ren-der every man would be 
put to death. Col-o-nel Travis' answer was a 
cannon shot. 

Col-o-nel Travis now sent word to Gen-er-al 
Houston that he was sur-round-ed by the Mex-i- 
cans and asked for help. In his letter he said, 



DAVID CROCKETT. 49 

"I shall never sur-ren-der or retreat ! Vic-to-ry 
or death ! " 

But no help came. The Mex-i-cans drew 
nearer and nearer to the fort. On the 6th of 
March, 1836, before daybreak, they closed about 
the walls of the fort. They brought ladders 
with them and tried to climb over the walls. 
But. the Texans poured upon them a ter-ri-ble 
hail of shot and shell and kept them back. A 
second time they went up the ladders, but with 
no better success. A third time they swarmed 
up the ladders, driven by the swords of their 
of-fi-cers. This time they went over the walls 
amongst the Texans. The Texans ' 'fought like 
brave men — long and well." They sold their 
lives as dearly as pos-si-ble. When daylight came 
only six of them were found alive. Among this 
number was Col-o-nel Crockett. He stood alone 
in a corner of the fort, the barrel of his shat- 
tered rifle in his right hand and his huge bowie 



50 DAVID CROCKETT. 

knife in his left. There was a great gash across 
his forehead. Twenty or thirty of his foes lay 
dead at his feet. 

Crockett with the other five Texans were 
taken pris-on-er and carried before Gen-er-al 
San-ta An-na, who ordered them to be put to 
death at once. 

When Crockett heard this order he sprang 
like a tiger at San-ta An-na, but before he could 
reach him a dozen swords pierced his heart and 
he fell and died without a groan. 



LA SALLE. 



The first white man to make a vSet-tle-ment in 
Texas was Robert Cav-e-lier de la Salle. 

La Salle was a Frenchman. 

He was born at Rou-en, Nor-man-dy, in 1643. 

His father, who was a wealthy merchant, gave 
him a fine ed-u-ca-tion and in-tend-ed him to be a 
priest. 

At this tim^ thousands of Frenclimen were 
flocking to the New World in search of fortune. 
Won-der-ful stories were told of the land beyond 
the sea. There was the Fountain of Youth, that 
wondrous spring that would restore youth and 
beauty to all who bathed in its waters. There 
was El Do-ra-do, the golden land, where the 



52 LA SAIvLE. 

people ate and drank out of vessels of silver and 
gold. 

The boy, La Salle, heard these stories, and 
he longed for the time to come w^hen he, too, 
should cross the w^aters and visit this new found 
land. 

He could not study as he once did. The school 
room seemed a prison to him. Every day, as he 
heard these stories, he became more restless 
and dis-con-tent-ed. A life of bold ad-vent-ure 
was his only dream of hap-pi-ness. 

At last he gave up the idea of be-com-ing a 
priest, and at the age of twenty-four joined an 
€x-pe-di-tion to Can-a-da. 

^And now the free life he had been longing for 
was his. 

He went first to Mont-re-al, where he had a 
brother, a priest. 

Mont-re-al was at that time a very dan-ger- 
ous place. 



LA SALLE. S3 

It was vsur-round-ed by In-di-ans who were 
very savage and always at war with the people 
of the French col-o-ny. No one could venture 
out into the fields or forests without fear of los- 
ing his life. 

Eight or nine miles from Mont-re-al, in the 
heart of the forest, LaSalle bought some land 
and began to make a set-tle-ment. He built a 
strong fort for pro-tec-tion against the In-di- 
ans. The ground was cleared of trees and log 
cabins were built for the settlers. 

The In-di ans often came to the set-tle-ment 
to trade furs, beads and other trinkets of the 
white man, and for powder and shot. 

One day he was vis-it-ed by a band of In-di-ans, 
who told him of a great river many miles to the 
west, flowing into the sea. 

La Salle, like Co-lum-bus, wanted to find a 
short route to Chi-na. He thought he might 
get to Chi-na by sailing down this great river. 



54 I.A SAIvIvE. 

This thought set him on fire. Al-read-y he 
saw his ships anchored in the ports of Chi-na 
and loading with the precious stuffs which all 
the world wanted. 

He could not rest. He went to the Gov- 
ern-or of Can-a-da to get per-mis-sion to sail 
down the great river. 

Per-mis-sion was given, and La Salle set out 
on his journey to find the great Father of 
Waters. 

Ten long years he spent in the wil-der-ness 
seeking for the great river. Through frozen 
forests and over trackless fields of snow he took 
his way, every step watched by a savage In-di-an. 

Dangers beset him on every side. Sev-er-al 
times his en-e-mies tried to poison him. Often 
he was in danger of star-va-tion and drowning. 
His friends tried to persuade him to give up his 
search and, when he refused to do so, left him. 



IvA SAI^I^S:. 55 

But nothing could turn him from his purpose. 
He would find the great river or die trying. 

At last his patience was re-ward-ed. On the 
sixth of February, 1682, he paddled his canoes 
out upon the broad bosom of the Mis-sis-sip-pi. 

For many days his canoes floated down the 
mighty stream. At one time they were in dan- 
ger of being upset by large masses of floating 
ice. At another time the party was attacked 
by In-di-ans, who sent a shower of arrows whiz- 
zing round their heads. 

On the sixth of April, two months from the 
time the journey had begun, La Salle and his 
party reached the mouth of the Mis-sis-sip-pi. 
Here La Salle set up a column and took pos-ses- 
sion of the country on both sides of the river 
for his king, Louis XIV of France. La Salle 
called the name of the country Lou-is-i-an-a. 

La Salle now returned to Can-a-da and from 
there to France to tell the king of his great 



56 I^A SAIyl^K. 

dis-cov-er-y. He told of the mighty river down 
which he had floated, and of the beau-ti-ful 
country through which it flowed. He told of 
great fortunes which might be made there trad- 
ing with the In-di-ans, and of the rich silver 
mines of Mex-i-co that might be taken from the 
Span-iards. He told of the poor heathen In-di- 
ans who might be made Christ-ians. He asked 
per-mis-sion of the king to make a set-tle-ment 
at the mouth of the river where he had set up 
the column. 

The king listened to all he said with much 
at-ten-tion, and then told La Salle that his wish 
should be granted. 

La Salle went to work at once to make ready 
for the voyage. His heart throbbed with hap- 
pi-ness, for this was his dream come true. 

Soon four vessels were ready. Their names 
were Ai-ma-ble, Jo-li, Belle and St. Fran-cis. 



I.A SAIvIvE. 57 

On board these vessels were one hundred and 
eighty nien, seven priests and seven fam-i-lies. 

The Jo-li was a war ship car-ry-ing thirty-six 
guns, and on this La Salle sailed. 

The voyage was begun July 24, 1684. The 
passage across the At-lan-tic was a long and 
stormy one. They had been out only four days 
when the Jo-li broke her bow-sprit and had to 
sail back to get it mended. A great storm sep- 
a-rat-ed the vessels, and the store-ship St. 
Fran-cis was taken by the Span-iards. La Salle 
was attacked by a fever which almost cost him 
his life. 

After sailing for two months they entered the 
Gulf of Mex-i-co. All eyes now kept a sharp 
lookout for the mouth of the Mis-sis-sip-pi, 
where La Salle in-tend-ed to plant his col-o-ny. 

Day after day passed by, but n^^ signs of the 
ofreat river were to be seen. At last a wide 
opening was seen between two low points of 



58 lyA SALIvE. 

land. La Salle thought this wavS the Mis-sis- 
sip-pi, but it was Gal-ves-ton Bay. 

La Salle had left one of his vessels behind 
and he waited here five or six days for it to 
come up. He then sailed westward along the 
Texas coast. He tried to land at sev-er-al 
places, but the sandbars and breakers kept 
him back. Some In-di-ans swam out through 
the surf and were taken on board. 

Buf-fa-lo were seen running along the shore 
and deer grazed on the prairie. 

The ships kept sailing to the west till Mat-a- 
gor-da Bay was reached. La Salle thought this 
was the Mis-sis-sip-pi and landed his men. One 

of his ships was wrecked when it crossed the 

■I 
L»ar. 

LaSalle w.as on the shore watching the ship. 

Some of his jnen were a short distance away 

cutting down a tree to make a canoe. Sud-den-ly 

some of them came running to La Salle crying 



IvA SAIvIvE. 59 

out that their com-pan-ions had been carried 
away by the In-di-arivS. 

La Salle ordered his men to take their arnivS 
and pursue the In-di-ans. They soon found the 
In-di-an village and rescued the captives. 

The whole party now camped on the beach. 
They had bad water and food which made many 
of them sick. Five or six died every day. The 
In-di-ans came to the camp and stole blankets 
and other ar-ti-cles and killed several of the 
Frenchmen. 

La Salle soon found that he was not on the 
Mis-sis-sip-pi. It was a great dis-ap-point-ment 
to him. But it must be found, cost what it 
might. 

He built a fort, which he named Fort St. 
Louis, to protect his people from the In-di-ans, 
and then set out with fifty men to search for 
the Mis-sis-sip-pi. 

For weeks and months they wandered through 



60 IvA SAIvIvE. 

the wil-der-ness, but no glimpse of the river 
gladdened their eyes or lightened their hearts. 
They were attacked by the In-di-ans and many 
of their number killed. Their clothes were in 
rags. Pood was scarce. At last, foot-sore and 
weary, they returned to the fort. 

The dangers and dis-ap-point-ments through 
which he had passed made Jl^a Salle ill. For 
many days it was thought that he would die. 
He got well, however, and at once began to 
make ready for another journey to search for 
the river. This time he took twenty men with 
him, among whom were his brother and nephew, 
and journeyed in a north-east-er-ly di-rec-tion. 
It was a beau-ti-ful country through which he 
passed. The prai-ries were covered with lovely 
flowers and fresh green grass, on which thous- 
ands of buf-fa-lo were feeding. 

But mis-for-tune and dis-ap-point-ment met 
him again and caused him to return to the 



IvA SA^IvLE. 61 

fort. Only eight men returned with him. One 
had been lost and one devoured by an al-li-ga- 
tor, four de-sert-ed him, and the othervS, too 
weak to keep up, were left to die upon the prai- 
rie. 

Of the one hundred and eighty col-o-nists 
only forty-five now remained. 

But La Salle was not the man to give up. He 
knew no such word as fail. After a short rest 
he prepared to renew his search. 

When ev-er-y-thing 'was ready, he called his 
little com-pa-ny about him and told them of his 
plans. Twenty men were to go with him and 
the others were to remain at the fort till he 
could bring them help. He told those who were 
to remain to be brave and patient and watch for 
his coming. Then he said farewell and rode 
out of the gate. " It was a bitter parting, one 
of sighs, tears and em-brac-ings. " Slowly the 



62 IvA SAIvIvE. 

little party wound its way along the prairie, 
till it was lost to sight in the distance. 

In the party w^ere two nephews and a brother 
of LaSalle ; the trusty soldier Jou-tel, and a 
priest An-as-tase Dou-ay; Du-haut and Li-o-tot, 
the surgeon. 

" They passed the prai-rie and neared the 
forest. Here they saw buf-fa-lo and the hunters 
killed sev-er-al of them. Heavy clouds gathered 
over them and it rained all night ; but they 
sheltered themselves under the hides of the buf- 
fa-lo they had killed. ' ' 

They met In-di-ans almost every day. They 
often vis-i-ted them in their lodges and smoked 
with them the peace-pipe. 

But now trouble arose among the party. Du- 
haut and Li-o-tot, the surgeon, hated La Salle 
and his nephew Mor-an-get, and had sworn ven- 
geance against them. Food was getting scarce 
in the camp, and La Salle sent a party of men 



IvA SALIvE. 63 

ahead to find some corn and beans which he had 
hidden on one of his other journeys. 

In this party were Du-haut, Li-o-tot, Ni-ka- 
an In-di-an hunter, and La Salle's servant, Sa- 
get. They found the food, but it was spoiled. 
On their w^ay back to camp they saw buf-fa-lo, 
and Ni-ka killed two of them. 

They cut up the meat and laid it on scaffolds 
for smoking and sent word to La Salle to send 
horses for it. Next morning La Salle sent Mor- 
an-get and another man with horses for the 
meat. When they arrived at the hunter's camp 
Mor-an-get and Du-haut began to quarrel about 
the meat. 

That night, Mor-an-get, Ni-ka and Sa-get 
were killed while they slept. All the next day 
La Salle watched for their return. When they 
did not come, he resolved to go and look for 
them. He did not know the way, and he told 



64 ' I^A SAIvIvE. 

an In-di-an that he would give him a hatchet to 
guide him. 

La Salle was very sad and down-heart-ed, and 
seemed to feel that something was wrong. In 
the morning he set out with his In-di-an guide 
and Father An-as-tase. 

When close to Du-haut's camp he fired his 
gun to let his men know where he was. 

Du-haut heard the gun and guessed rightly 
that it was La Salle coming to look for his 
nephew. He and the surgeon, Li-o-tot, crouched 
down in the long, dry, reed-like grass and 
waited for La Salle to come up. 

When he came within speaking distance a shot 
was fired from the grass, quickly followed by 
another, and, pierced through the brain. La 
Salle dropped dead. 

His body was dragged into the bushes and 
left a prey to the buzzards and the wolves. 



LA SAIvIvE. 65 

Thus, at the age of forty-three, died Robert 
Cav-e-lier de la Salle, one of the greatest men 
of his time, and one whom every Texan should 
delig"ht to honor. 



9. 



alveston 



A HIGH GRADE 
TRAINING SCHOOL 
OF 



m 



usiness 



71 



nwersity. 



:fi5usine6S aiiD 

SbortbanD anC* 
^v?pc writing, 
Ipenmansbip 
anD :EnQli6b. 



T>a.y and Night Sessions. No Vacations. Visitors Welcome. Call and 
see the bankintr and office departments in active operation. 






3)0(00)0(0 



o)o(oD}0(f| 



o)o(cq)o(o 



G. B. U. 

Most elegant equipments. Modern and practical course of training-. 
Complete facult.y of expert specialists. Absolutely thorough work in ail 
departments. Largest attendance of any other similar institution in 
Texas. Catalogue free. j p_ SMITH 

President and Founder. 



F. J. F1N6K & 60, 



217 Tremont St. 



Printers, tOtCttlOtlOrS, Engravers, 
and S^lank 5^ook SKakers. 





AGENTS FOR 



— ^' 



^ The Hartford Cypciaritcr, 



THE BEST MADE. 



/Ind Edison's Pbonocfraphs 



a; 



'Phone 472. 



Galveston, Texas. 



A Cold Wave 



•T • 



IS comingf, 



and is about due, 
so you had better have plenty of good, clean coal 

in your cellar and 
be prepared. Old 
Boreas usually a- 
voids the domicile 
that is heated by 
our superior coal ; 
it is his worst ene- 
my. We will sell 
you high grade coal at lower prices than you will pay 
for inferior coal elsewhere. 

THE McRAE COAL COMPANY, Galveston. 

Office: 22nd an(fi|^^3jSd$0 
O. J, MCRAE. 51 . 


















;* -^^ 








.** .0 



^o 













<0 v\ - ^ 












AT) 




0^ .•'•j»:- '^o 




.%- ... % '•-■>' ao^ <v ^- ' y 







■^ o 
























- ^ . . ^ . G^ 



-^i-. 



if M TO 



>^ 



T> 









.0' 



